Daniyal Dravot
Dravotnameh: The Life of Daniyal Dravot
Three men on a boat to Azeroth (not counting Billy Fish)
Dravot took with him two other companions, Carnehan an acquaintance from his days in the UDF who brought with him a selection of knives, pistols and hunting rifles and Ecthgow, a Norse scout armed with a pair of throwing axes and a longbow provided by the Arandur. As far as provisions went they took with them a hamper of cured sausages, ham, boiled eggs, cheeses and water biscuits. They also found room for several bottles of dark beer and a selection of pale ales suited to Dravot's discerning pallet.
The skiff they were to take across to the western bank of the Blue Elwynn came with a low born Babkhi skivvy, possessed of a notably fawning disposition and a pair of oars, who it transpired was to be the principle means of propulsion and navigation for the voyage. This individual Dravot renamed Billy Fish on account of it being the tradition, ignoring the voluble protests of Carnehan. Ecthgow made no comment but instead silently slipped his hand into the hamper, removing one of the sausages which he sniffed suspiciously before quietly secreting it about his person.
It transpired that Billy Fish had a great enthusiasm for rowing, but a greater one for conversing with great gusto on matters of no great significance to the trio, this latterly proved to be regrettable and was resolved by Carnehan's fists a half-hour into the voyage, whereafter Billy wailed with a passion, until Carnehan showed him the flat of his hands, whereupon Billy discovered the aptitude for quietude that was desired. Dravot limited himself to remarking that it wouldn't do to be beastly to the help, causing Carnehan to remark that if Dravot knew a better way to keep a 'Wog' quiet, he was welcome to try it. Ecthgow, sensibly it must be said, kept out of this discussion and kept his eyes focused on the distant shore of Angularis. Billy Fish simpered somewhat but was otherwise very commendable in his diligent rowing.
In spite of Billy Fish's best efforts, the strong current of the Blue Elwynn was pulling the trio's little skiff a further distance southwards than it was managing in crossing the river from east to west. As Carnehan watched the grain barges leisurely drift along on their course towards Shirekeep and the ESB cargo boats chugging against the flow towards the docks of Ardashirshahr that they had left two hours previously, he had cause to wonder, and at length to ask, why it was that they had been sent out in this manner to make contact with the Storrish merchants on the opposite bank when Thorgils could have charted a helicopter for them or even dialled them up on the Elwnet himself. Dravot leaned back in his seat and glanced up into the sky. As he pondered this question, a Ryker blimp passed overhead, lingering gently in the countervailing breeze on its way to Sansabury. On reflection Dravot supposed that, if they had been dispatched in this manner, Thorgils could not be in that much of a hurry to hear the answer. That caused Carnehan to ask, in that case, what the point of hurrying to cross the river in a flimsy little skiff? Dravot supposed that there was, in fact, probably no point - except to show that an effort had been made. Ecthgow now spoke, saying that it was their duty to proceed as ordered, for they had taken the Arandur's Thaler and accepted his salt for their bread. Carnehan muttered that it was a rum business for the director of an omnipresent corporation like the ESB, as Dravot was, to be, as he charmingly put it 'pissing about on a tiddly little boat in the middle of a damned big river'. Dravot acknowledged that could be the case, but they should not worry themselves unduly since he had about his person his employer's letter of credit and a debit card loaded with Erb. Carnehan remarked how that was fine and dandy but neither a letter nor a card was much use in the middle of a crowded shipping lane unless Dravot was planning on opening a line of credit with the damned fishes. Dravot mulled that over and was obliged to concede that Carnehan did indeed have a point, and he turned to Billy Fish and gently suggested that he turn the boat about and put in to shore; there was, after all, bound to be a serviceable hotel in Babran and a better way to cross the river could be found in the morning. With that said, Dravot opened the cooler and passed a bottle apiece to Carnehan and Ecthgow, suggesting as he did so that there was no point letting the provisions go to waste. Billy Fish huffed and puffed as he exerted himself sculling the left oar whilst balancing its opposite number above the water, and slowly the boat turned.
As Billy Fish set about tying the skiff to a mooring post along the quayside, the most notable thing about Babran was that it was not Ardashirshahr. A Bailiwick with a population of 312,406, overwhelmingly Babkhi, overwhelmingly Zurvanist, the sort of place where the call to prayer still ends with a Marg bar yeh Elfinshi and a Marg bar yeh Sathrati for traditions sake. The city itself had a population of 133,384 and like all cities of a Babkhan type was surrounded by a high defensive rampart. Functionally useless in the modern age of course, but it provided a reassurance that the lords of the ziggurats dwelled within whilst those who were not, did not. The wall was itself surrounded by a circuit of tarmac that, at least in theory, served as a dual carriageway. The trio, having left Billy Fish with the care of the boat, their rifles and the chewed remnants of the hamper, found that the drivers in Babran, like any true Babkhi anywhere, treated the division of roads into lanes, and other intriguing notions of traffic management and safety, as being very much of an advisory nature. The drivers also appeared to take great delight in treating the spectacle of three pale-skinned pedestrians foolhardily attempting to cross the motorway from the harbour to the main city as though they had been presented with a moving target and an opportunity of which they now readily availed themselves. Dravot survived three roads, two green lights and a roundabout before finding himself sheltering in the comparative safety of one of the city's seven gates. Carnehan, who followed closely behind, bellowed his fury at misbegotten heathens whilst shaking his fists in an impotent rage, much to the amusement of nearby kebab vendors.
From the Harbour Gate they entered the bazaar district of Babran along a thoroughfare known in Babkhi as the 'True Road of the Broad and Straight Path'; it goes without saying that the street was narrow and winding and doubled back on itself on at least two occasions. The buildings were packed close together and lined with stalls selling spices, cloth, jewellery and ornately decorated assault rifles detailed with inlays of gold, silver and ivory in a filigree pattern. As they navigated their way along the street it was Ecthgow who first noticed the gradual change in character. The cobbles began to feel more even underfoot, the noises began to subtly fade and the stalls were replaced by glass fronted shops with neon lighting. Once they had passed under a ruined archway with a trilingual dedication to the victory of Baron Ardashir over the Elfinshi and the Boreals this change became sufficiently apparent for even Carnehan to stop muttering murderous oaths and take notice. There was a reason for this: the archway marked a spatial divide within the ethnographic hierarchy of the Babkhi community, marking the end of the Umraist part of the city and the gateway to the wealthier Ardashirian quarter at its very heart. The Ardashirians claimed descent from the settlers of the first migration and had somehow managed to connive to retain wealth and power in spite of all the travails their community had faced over the intervening centuries. The looming shadow of a ziggurat would dispel any lingering doubts in that regards. The alleys widened and the buildings became smarter, but not only that - the people were better dressed too. Buffed fezzes in vivid crimsons topped faces adorned with well trimmed goatee beards and complemented close fitting tailored suits of linen and silk. Women wore their veils carelessly or not at all and mingled freely with the men with whom they strolled companionably. It was, in short, declared Dravot, the place where they would be most likely to find a tolerable hotel for the night. Carnehan murmured his assent but croaked that they had better not pick a dry establishment. There was little chance of that, Ecthgow replied, since the Babkhi drank like fishes - even the Umraists, who just knew how to hide it better, he added in a laconic drawl.
